


A Letter From Logsteadshire

by ARSONjST



Series: Dream SMP Short Stories [5]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Beta Read, We Die like C!Wilbur, talks of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29223714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARSONjST/pseuds/ARSONjST
Summary: Tubbo was overwhelmed enough with the Butcher Army, the new build plans for L'Manburg, and trying so desperately to remain peaceful. The letter that Ranboo delivers does nothing but make everything else seem minuscule. In the shock, he doesn't really think of how out of character this seems for his long-time best friend. Someone takes that obliviousness and puts it to good use in their own plan.
Series: Dream SMP Short Stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068716
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> the character death isn't actually explored in this fic, just briefly mentioned, but I thought I'd still give another heads up.  
> Also, peep the Hamilton reference at the end-

The rain pattered down Tubbo’s walls, the water under the docks sloshed against the shore and the underside of the wooden docks. It made a soft melody that would nearly rock the young president to sleep, but he kept his eyes open as he rewrote the same sentence again. Raking his mind trying to remember who he was supposed to give this letter to, or where it was even supposed to go. All the president had been doing for the past week was project after project, the morse code, the ocean base, the teleportation. Now he had to actually try and make a way to communicate through the morse code that had taken him way too long to figure out. He tapped his fingers against the desk idly; he just had to finish one more letter and then he could go work on finishing clearing the water in his ocean base.

There was loud thumping suddenly, which drew Tubbo’s attention as the noises grew closer. Instinctively his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw the weapon the second it was needed. But he relaxed at the sight of mismatched green and red eyes hidden under an iron helmet.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo looked up from the notes in his hands. Notes about Technoblade’s whereabouts, Philza’s plans for some buildings in L’Manburg, and some notes from Ghostbur he’d yet to open that were stained with blue dye.

Ranboo stepped onto the dark oak hardwood floors of Tubbo’s home, the helmet on his head shining from the rainwater that dribbled down it. His shadow moved as he gasped and sucked in a breath, shutting the president's door hastily. He leaned back on it, speaking in a soft voice, “Hold on. Just, let me breathe.”

Tubbo nodded and stood from his chair, letting the wood leg creak as the weight on it was lifted. He’d have to commission a new chair soon, or at least ask Philza about repairing it. With no rush, he walked over to where a spare jacket was, pulling it off the hanger and handing it to Ranboo so the half-Enderman could dry himself off. As soon as he handed the fabric over, Ranboo took off his helmet to dry off, his black and white hair flicking a few water droplets across the room. The flooring might get wet, but Tubbo didn’t mind, Ranboo was obviously distressed. The president could tell by the small Enderman like screeches that came from his back of the taller male’s throat.

“President Tubbo, uhm. I want you to be sitting for this news, okay? I just… don’t know how you’ll react.” Ranboo rubbed his hands together and gently placed a hand on his friend’s back. Guiding him to his seat, he helped the president sit down before he pulled out a small paper from under his coat.

“On December 16th, 2020, Ex-Vice President Tommyinnit was found dead in his tent in Logshedire. Technoblade was the one to come across the body, and it is unclear exactly what happened to him. On his body, Technoblade found a finished book and quill, equating to Tommy’s will, and his remains and what he owns will be given to those appointed to receive them in the will. He is temporarily buried in Logsteadshire until a proper gravesite can be found,” Ranboo finished as he set the letter down and shuffled in his pocket before he held out a small item to Tubbo, “He wanted you to have this, Tubbo.”

With glassy eyes, he took the item in his hands. With blurred vision, he stared at a small red arrow, pointed directly at him. He rubbed his fingers along the messy yet precise engraving done by Ghostbur… ‘your tubbo’ it read. Tubbo set it down and put his head in his hands, biting his lip.

“Tubbo?” the soft voice next to him said as gentle pressure was applied to his shoulder by his concerned friend and Tubbo abruptly stood. Motioning to the door.

“Go,  _ please _ . I have so much work to do.”


	2. First Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo tries to rebuild himself and the others around him all December, it comes crashing down after a quick chat with Karl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide is mentioned and people believe someone committed suicide, but it's not explained graphically or anything.  
> Please let me know if I need to tag anything else!

For a week, Tubbo had done almost nothing. He had laid in bed light into the night, woke early in the morning, and got dressed. He donned his best suit for a week straight and hunted down anyone he could find to tell them what had happened. He read the letter and, after getting Ranboo to hand over what was to be given, he’d passed on a few items to people. He droned on with a dead voice and eyes bruised underneath from lack of sleep. Despite the deep-rooted sadness in his core, Tubbo felt everything and nothing at once and he assumed he’d already forced his way to acceptance in the stages of grief.

The stages… what were they again? Oh yeah, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. 

He felt denial in the way Sapnap and George had stared at Tubbo or the way Sam had simply tensed up before asking Tubbo if he was okay. Tubbo had said he was fine. He knew he wasn’t. He’d felt it in the way Ghostbur has simply said “but I don’t see Tommy anywhere in the afterlife!” or the way the paintings in the office he’d whispered the news to one night never moved, and part of him wished one of them would fucking say anything so he’d feel like he wasn’t so alone.

He felt anger in the way Quackity, Fundy, and Philza had all screamed at him for sending Tommy to exile. He felt it in the way they glared and let their lips curl into snarls and sour expressions whenever he passed by. He felt it in the way Quackity had basically taken over every presidential duty, or how he snapped back at Ranboo who tried to reason that Tubbo was still the president. He’d felt it in the way his stomach twisted whenever he caught a glimpse of green that could’ve possibly been a hoodie.

He felt bargaining in the way Ranboo had promised him he’d figure out for sure if this was the truth. The way Puffy had told him that this seemed so uncharacteristic for the once lively boy, and he felt it in the way she bit her lips when Tubbo told her that it was his fault. He felt it in Technoblade, who hadn’t said anything, but looked in the direction of Logsteadshire as if Tommy was going to burst out of the treeline laughing. He felt it in the way he stared at his spinning compass and begged it to fix itself.

He’d felt depression in the way Bad and Skeppy would watch Tubbo from afar. They weren’t depressed, but he knew they were worried for Tubbo when he sat on the bench by the cliffside. He felt depression when Niki had burst into tears and wrapped herself around Tubbo, or how Jack Manifold had simply turned away whilst trying to hide his emotions. He felt it in the way he’d laid in bed and couldn’t even will himself to feel anything but cold.

He’d felt acceptance in the way Sam, Connor (who’d barely known Tommy), Callahan, and some other members of the server placed a sign and a newly refurbished music box at the bench. The sign read ‘in memoriam of Tommyinnit, a son, brother, and friend.’ He felt it in the way they’d made him and Wilbur graves, far away in a biome full of flowers, where no war had tainted. With no bodies to put in the graves, they’d just been lone picket fence signs that occasionally creaked in the wind. He’d felt it in the way he’d tied the red bandana he’d been given by Tommy over the sleeve of his suit.

Despite the ability to feel everything in everyone else, he couldn’t find the words to explain how he was feeling. Even when Puffy had somehow coaxed some tears out of him one late night on the bench. He’d cried, he’d screamed, he’d lost his mind somewhere along the way and every time he went to find it, it slipped further.

But despite the painful week, he’d felt like something was still wrong. The first sign had been no sightings of Dream. Now, this wasn’t super unusual, the server owner was known for disappearing for months at a time but something about it now just held a thousand secrets Tubbo wanted to break through. The next sign had been Sam’s odd silence and the way he seemed to be avoiding Tubbo. At first, the president had assumed it was because he was grieving, but Puffy had confirmed his suspicions one late night when they sat on the docks together. Sam had apparently just finished Pandora’s Vault, so they’d assumed it to be exhaustion from building. Though, when Puffy or Bad tried to stop by and give him something to eat and to talk, he simply declined and said he was alright before vanishing into the large black walls.

The next sign was one Quackity and Ranboo noted, the compass was fixed. Partially. It would sometimes flick in a certain direction that he’d never been able to determine. It gave him enough hope that somewhere out in this cold world, Tommy was still alive. He was still breathing. Tubbo had kept it on his suit, hanging open against his stomach, the gentle tap keeping his mind in gear when he eventually had to return to his presidential duties. It was a silent motivator. A silent promise. Quackity had quickly gotten over his anger and after a heartfelt conversation, the two planned to do everything they could to make L’Manburg the best nation possible. Fundy had agreed but hadn’t helped much since then, and Ranboo was always on board to help his friends. They’d decided they’d have to hunt down Dream first for answers about their missing friend, and thus, ended up talking to Karl one night after they had spent the day trying to find anyone to talk to.

“Dream?” Karl had shifted from foot to foot, his multicolored hoodie shifting in the dim lamplight, “I haven’t seen him since Tommy’s exile. Maybe take a look there?”

They’d thanked him, and Quackity told the two teens to go shrewd while he stayed back to ask more questions. Ranboo and Tubbo knew that Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl were engaged. They didn’t ask questions when they were told to go ahead. The Nether path had been completely burnt, probably just because of the lava lake beneath it. Ranboo took his time remaking the path while Tubbo shed his suit jacket like his life depended on it. 

“Do you think he’ll still be there… or do you think he’s actually gone?” Tubbo had asked as Ranboo worked, he paused and stood up again, shrugging as he tossed a stack of black stone to Tubbo.

“I have no idea… that letter was short. It wasn’t written by Techno or Phil, so it’s probably fake or written by Dream. We haven’t seen Dream, who’s most likely the last person to see Tommy, since before his death. It’s suspicious at best. Even if Tommy’s there, his letters sounded more desperate and deadly each day. If he’s still there, it might not be good.” Ranboo and Tubbo finished the work in silence, the tension growing every second. As soon as it was sturdy and ready, they ran across it, sprinting the rest of the way to Logsteadshire. They’d both realized subconsciously that Tommy’s death might not have been so out of pocket like Puffy had suggested.

“Tommy!” Tubbo shouted as they barreled through the portal, breathing heavily as Ranboo stepped through a few seconds after.

“Tommy?!” Tubbo screamed again, making his way to the center before he gasped. Ranboo’s hands flew to his mouth.

“Where’s his tent?! And his house?!” Ranboo cried, bringing his hands to his face.

“Who blew this all up?” Tubbo whipped around, turning back, “and there are two portals, did Tommy not want us coming back for him?”

“Tommy! Where are you?!” Ranboo shouted, looking down at the footprints in the sand. Four sets, two of him and Tubbo, and the other two were from two other people. As he tried to determine who they belonged to, Tubbo’s scream ripped Ranboo out of his thoughts. It was blood curdling, broken, and distraught and Ranboo couldn’t remember running to Tubbo’s side as he fell onto his knees and screamed again.

“What? What happened! Tubbo, shhh, please! What happened?!” Ranboo shouted, guiding him into his chest as he sobbed.

“H-he, Ranboo he jumped,” Tubbo whispered, hands curling into his jacket as Ranboo’s eyes slowly slid up the pole they had fallen in front of. His cheeks burned from the silent tears that began to fall.

* * *

They met Quackity in the Nether. He’d immediately noticed something was wrong and took a sobbing Tubbo into his arms. He hadn’t asked questions when Ranboo’s face was scarred from burns, he had just guided Tubbo and Ranboo back to L’Manburg. They walked down the Prime path, desperately holding Tubbo up on his feet. The week of feeling nothing finally caught up and crashed into him ten times harder than anything else had. Sam saw them and dipped a head in respect as they passed and he joined as Puffy followed behind them with a sword drawn, swiping any stray mobs away. Bad and Ant stood by the entrance to L’Manburg and watched them go. Once the group made it back to Tubbo’s home, everyone who’d followed stayed outside. Curiosity and fear prickling in their stomachs. The house was silent, as Tubbo sniffled and was set down in the main room. Quackity decided to take up watching over him while Ranboo went to tell everyone what they’d found.

The reactions had been almost as upsetting as Tubbo’s. People clung to one another like lifelines and some wailed, some cried, and some stood eerily still.

But Ranboo couldn’t find Sam. It was uncharacteristic for the builder to be so absent, and as the rest of December slowly crawled in January, more and more people noticed his elongated absences. Three days into January, Dream returned, full of sorrow. He immediately apologized to Tubbo, kneeling before the young president as he whispered,

“I was supposed to protect Tommy, I saw that pole and I just knew I’d failed. I’m so so sorry, Tubbo. I can't believe I let this happen, it’s all my fault. I should’ve been nicer to him.”

It seemed as if Dream recognizing Tommy was dead really set it into gear for everyone else. The once fearless god of the server kneeled before a child president, who simply fell to his knees as well and embraced the green-clad god.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

Ranboo almost missed the crimson on Dream’s knuckles, and the familiar dark green bandana tied around his wrist.


End file.
